


Ride: Chapter Seven

by delicada, pinto_round_robin



Series: Ride [7]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Pinto Round Robin, Road Trip, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 00:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4039951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicada/pseuds/delicada, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinto_round_robin/pseuds/pinto_round_robin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach begins to emerge from his cloud of darkness; Chris struggles with being less obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride: Chapter Seven

“Sorry, sir,” the man at the Ramada Inn's front desk drawls without an ounce of sincerity. “We’re booked. The rodeo’s in town.”

Chris fights the urge to drop his head on the counter. He’s been driving since dawn and is exhausted. Zach has also been quite vocal about how tired he is but Chris is certain he took at least a few cat naps during some of the long stretches of highway. 

“Everywhere else in town is probably booked too,” the concierge calls out after Chris as he makes his way out of the automatic doors and out into the dry heat. 

When he breaks the news to Zach, Zach makes no effort to hide his disgust. As Chris makes his way back into the Bel-Air, he hears his co-pilot muttering dark epitaphs regarding what he really thinks of the southwest. 

“There has to be something else. Let me Yelp us out of this awful town. Just get back on the road and keep going east.” 

“Until we hit New York?” Chris says under his breath but Zach doesn’t notice. 

Chris allows Zach use of his phone while he finds them lodging for the night somewhere along Route 66, but when they’re far away enough from the last town they crossed, he slows the Bel-Air to a stop and reaches over wordlessly to knock the phone out of Zach’s hands. 

“Hey, what the fu—”

“Look up, Commander.”

Chris watches as Zach looks up and his mouth drops open. Above them the night sky is afire with innumerable stars. The sight of a clear night sky with no city lights to disrupt the view never ceases to amaze Chris. Even so, Chris can’t help but look at Zach instead. 

After some time, Zach finally looks at Chris. When he finds him already staring at him, he smiles warmly. “That’s beautiful. Thanks, Chris.”

“What for? I didn’t put them there,” Chris demurs as he turns the ignition and brings the car to life once more. 

“I know, but I’m only here because of you.” Chris only shrugs in response and is about to accelerate when Zach speaks up again. “Wait! I’ve got an idea.”

Zach looks more excited than Chris has seen him in a while. The excitement is infectious but he also has no idea what Zach is thinking so he’s a little scared too. 

“I saw a sign a while back that there’s a rest area coming up. Let’s sleep in the car! Under the stars!” Chris only stares. “I’m serious!”

“You haven’t stopped moaning about your back since, uhm, the second Trek?”

Zach throws his head back and laughs. He stays like that for another moment as he looks at the stars again. “The stars seemed to have revived me, Captain,” he says in his best Spock voice. 

It’s Chris’ turn to laugh. “Well, I’m up for it. It won’t be too comfortable but at least the car has two bench seats.”

Chris gets them to the rest stop in no time and, as soon as he parks, Zach leaps out of the car, designer toiletry bag in hand, and makes a beeline for the men’s room, leaving Chris to lift the top up by himself. Chris is still too pleased by Zach’s spontaneity to be annoyed. 

When Chris returns to the car from his own turn in the men’s room, it’s only to find that Zach is already curled up in the backseat, face illuminated by the iPhone he’s holding above him. 

“Before you saying anything about breaking the sacred No-Phones rule,” Zach says as he puts the phone away, “I was only using it to stave off the creeping feeling that we might get murdered tonight.”

“We’re not getting murdered,” Chris replies as he rolls up his old college hoodie into a vague pillow shape and settles into the front bench seat. “I don’t think so anyway.”

Quicker than expected, Chris is asleep. 

 

*

 

The heat of morning is what wakes them up the next day. They each peel their damp skin off the warm leather, groaning with pain. In silence and too groggy to care whether to care if the car gets stolen, they both make their way to the restrooms to brush their teeth. 

“Ugh,” Zach groans as he arches backward with arms akimbo. “That was not a great idea.”

Chris can’t help but agree but he’ll be damned if he’ll vocalize it. 

“But it was also kind of inspired,” Zach says with a smile aimed solely at Chris. 

It’s going to be a great day. 

 

*

 

“I’m hungry.”

“I know. You keep saying so. We’ll stop at the first place we see.”

“Well, I don’t want to eat at a gas station either.” Again, in Zach-speak, this is his not-so-subtle way of saying that whatever is going into his body next should be something all-natural, organic, grass-fed, free-range, non-gmo, gluten-free, and psychoanalyzed. Chris got away with diner food last night and Zach has been surprisingly game about the road trip, so he’s decided to be magnanimous about their next meal. 

Chris scoffs. “You will eat a crusty, three week-old rotating hot dog if that is where I choose to stop. And you will enjoy it, Quinto.”

“For breakfast?” The gasp that comes from the passenger side is comical, but when he looks over and sees Zach’s appalled expression, Chris knows that he’ll let him look up the nearest veg restaurant once they’re closer to Flagstaff. In less than half an hour, it’s obvious to Chris that a pit stop is inevitable. The gas gauge is frighteningly low. The sign of a gas company looms large in the sky and when they’re close enough, Chris announces that they’re making a stop. 

Chris parks the car and walks around to the gas pump only to realize he’s parked the Bel-Air the wrong way. Infuriatingly, the fuel cap is on the other side of the car. 

“I’ve got to turn the car around,” Chris mumbles to Zach but when he looks up the passenger seat is already empty. Chris looks around the empty gas station lot until he spots Zach jogging towards the building, lanky arms swinging wildly like that of a child desperate to put some room between himself and a doting parent. 

As he holds the nozzle to the car’s fuel cap hearing the rush of fuel fill the car, Chris again looks around the vast desert around him. The morning sky is cloudless and a beautiful blue. A small puff of black smoke alerts him to an approaching vehicle and when he looks, he sees a truck coming down the road that looks as ancient, if slightly less well-maintained, as the red Bel-Air. The man driving it has an arm dangling out of the window and when it turns into the gas station’s parking lot, Chris sees that, on the bed of the truck, there is a second young man sitting haphazardly on the side of the truck, one hand holding him steady and the other holding a straw cowboy hat securely on his head. Also in the truck bed there look to be crates and crates of produce of varying colors. While the tank fills lazily with eighteen full gallons of unleaded, Chris watches as the two young men quickly set up a table, canopy tent, and a sign that reads FRUTA ORGANICA. They each take seats on empty crates placed behind the table and look ready to take on the day.

As soon as the nozzle clicks off once, signaling the end of its job, Chris hangs it back in its place and walks over to the seemingly impromptu fruit stand. Once in earshot, he hears the two young men bickering in Spanish in way that could only be construed as familial and in a way that reminds him of other summer mornings long ago when his parents would task him and Katie with doing backyard maintenance in exchange for spending money. _Only if you two worked together and without fighting_ , Chris can still hear it in his mother’s warm voice if he thinks about it hard enough. 

“Hola, buenos dias,” Chris says. “¿Que tal?”

“Buenas dias, señor. How can we help you?” The younger man replies in clear but charmingly accented English. 

Chris looks at the vast array of fruits and veggies before him. “Hmm, I’ll take some oranges, a cantaloupe, a couple of avocados, and some of those cucumbers.”

“Very good, señor.” Chris watches as his produce is placed in separate brown paper bags “Here you go.”

Right before they can give Chris his total, a cool breeze blows under the canopy, sweeping up some of the light dust around them, knocking over their sign but also wafting up the scent of ripe strawberries. Chris hadn’t noticed them, mostly because he is normally dismissive of strawberries, claiming to haven’t had a good one in more than two decades. The smell is too good to pass up and Chris snatches up a basket himself and eats one. It tastes like pure summer. 

“These too, por favor.” Chris says with strawberry still in his mouth, taking one more basket and wishing he could take another several but knowing they wouldn’t stay fresh for very long in the Bel-Air’s backseat. Chris pays for his goods happily and shakes the hands of both young men. “Adios, chicos.”

Chris bounds toward the convenience store, determined to keep the produce for as long as possible with the help of a cheap styrofoam ice chest. Realizing he needs to make use of the men’s room before heading back on the road, Chris makes his way to the back of the store. 

Chris opens the door to the men’s room and is startled to see Zach’s face on the other side of the threshold. He notices that the stubble on his friend’s chin is darker than he’s seen it in a while. He smiles and exhales a sharp breath. “Whoops. Almost gotcha there. I’ll be out in a sec.”

Zach’s eyes brighten right before Chris’ and his arm shoots out towards the other side of the door frame. “Whoa, you smell incredible. What is that?”

“What?” Chris laughs and again Zach’s expression sharpens, this time focusing on him even more. Chris isn’t sure what Zach is going about, certain that his white v-neck is more than likely still damp with the sweat that had pooled on his back this morning while he slept. “I don’t know.” 

Seemingly remembering himself, Zach lowers his arm but doesn’t move away any further from Chris, leaving them framed in the doorway of the men’s bathroom and still waiting to see if he can figure out where the smell was coming from. With only about six inches of space between them, Chris is fairly certain he sees him sniff the air between them. He does the same and then remembers. Slightly embarrassed, he cups his hand in front of his mouth and lets out a deep warm breath. “Oh, shit, that does smell good! It’s these strawberries!” 

Chris lifts one large and gleaming red strawberry out of the basket he’d been eating out of and is now nearly half empty. “Some kids are selling fruit outside. They claim it’s all organic but who knows and probably the best we can do for now. The strawberries are deli—”

Before he can finish, Zach grabs Chris’ wrist and lifts the strawberry to his mouth, tearing almost all the flesh away from the stem. Chris watches as one lone drop of juice clings to the curve of Zach’s bottom lip then makes its way down his chin, leaving behind a trail of skin stained a bright red. Unconsciously, Chris moistens his own bottom lip with a quick dart of his tongue and takes his hand back once Zach looks back at him with an arched eyebrow. A warmth simmers in Chris’ belly, one he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in some time. He shuts his eyes for a moment to concentrate on pushing it away. 

Zach nods as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand, cleaning away any evidence. “That was good. I haven’t had a good strawberry since, well, who knows.”

“That’s what I said,” Chris murmurs, finally fully entering the bathroom. “I bought a bunch of stuff from their fruit stand. Once I get an ice chest, they should last us maybe until tomorrow, but they should be good enough for you, I hope, as far as snacks go.” 

Zach smiles warmly at Chris in a way that makes him feel like he’s standing in the sun after a 10-year long winter. “They’re perfect, although I had already mentally prepared myself for a three-week old hot dog, as part of your Gross Food Only road trip rule you mentioned yesterday. I think I still might get one, you know, just for the full road trip experience.” 

He’s walking away as he’s talking, gesturing wildly with his long arms, and Chris is holding the door open and watching him. He’s happy his best friend seems to be coming out of the post-breakup fugue state. The warmth that had pooled in his gut is still burning but Chris doesn’t try to extinguish it. Instead, he lets himself feel it. He knows this trip will be full out of happy moments like these and wants to remember them for as long as he can.

When he walks out of the men’s room, Zach is waiting for him by the door with a bag of ice and the ice chest. “Got the stuff! And I ate a burrito I found under a warming lamp.” Zach opens the door for Chris and continues as they walk outside towards the car. “It was alright but then the kid at the register suggested I put cheese on it from this dispenser they had and then it was amazing. I’m glad you came out of the bathroom because I was tempted to buy another dozen and fill a cup with hot cheese.” 

Chris looks over at the fruit stand and sees that two more cars have pulled over to check out the goods. One of the young men looks over at Chris and waves. Chris waves back.

“Yo, Pine,” Zach is standing by the driver side door when he finally looks back towards the car. “Let me drive!”

Chris lets out a bark of a laugh. “That’s easily the funniest thing you’ve said so far on this trip.”

“I’m serious,” Zach pouts again. “I want to drive.”

“Uh, no.” Chris says as he pulls the keys out of his pocket and nudges his friend out of the way. “Why don’t you just put all the fruit in the ice chest. Ice on the bottom, food on top. Besides, when was the last time you drove? 2011?”

Zach looks pensive as he pours the ice into the styrofoam. “Uhm, maybe?”

Chris shakes his head as he sits behind the steering wheel. “Jeez. What a diva. Can you even drive stick?”

“Can I ever!” Zach leaps over the unopened passenger side door and lands gracefully in his rightful seat. “Wait. What? Stick? Oh.”

Chris turns the keys in the ignition and the Bel-Air comes to life once again. “Maybe I’ll teach you but definitely not in this car.”

“I’d be great at it. I’m an excellent student,” Zach says as Chris pulls out of the gas station. “All my teachers have told me so.”

“You sound like you were such a suck-up, Quinto. It won’t work on me. I’m a hardass.” 

“And don’t I know it!”

Chris laughs once more and begins to head east on the black asphalt once again. Once in the highest gear, he stretches out his right arm over the back of the bench seats that connects passenger and driver. His fingertips graze Zach’s shoulder then stretch towards the ice chest. He picks up the lid and extracts a handful of strawberries. Each one is perfect.


End file.
